


Fortune

by thelonelytypewriter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Attacks, Artist Clarke, Businesswoman Lexa, College/University, Depression, Engagement, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Long Distance Relationship (mentioned), Med Student Clarke, Mentions of Alcohol and Drunkenness, Minor Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Past Tense, Threats of Violence, frequent flashbacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7044421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonelytypewriter/pseuds/thelonelytypewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I will always be with you.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p> <br/><em>“You make it sound like you’re dying.” </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>“Without you, I might as well be.”</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was warm that day. Everything was still. It was warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, loves! This fic was originally written as a coping mechanism after Lexa's death. I never intended to post it, but after some encouragement from a few friends who read the first few chapters, I finally decided to. This fic was inspired by Chrmdpoet's Lover in Low Light. It is an incredible work and I would encourage you all to read it and fall in love with it as I have. This is also my first fanfiction. If this fic pleases you all, I will be updating as often as possible.  
> NOTE: This story goes back and forth between the past and the present. The events in the past will be written in italics. Their lengths can range from a sentence in length to a full chapter. These are not in chronological order, but as the fic draws to a close, everything should make sense.
> 
> Thank you so much for joining me on this wonderful journey with Clarke and Lexa. Comments and suggestions are always appreciated!

Her eyes, the color of the forest after the first spring storm, gazed upon Manhattan’s infinite skyline. The lights of the city seemed to sparkle arrogantly against the night sky as if they were competing with the stars. Her forehead was gently pressed against the smooth glass of her bedroom window. At some moments, the outside world would fog away as her warm breath would condensate on to the cool surface, allowing her to sink back into her drunken thoughts before the glass cleared and she lost herself in the city once more. Her tanned fingers gripped the crystal tumbler as she brought the remainder of the scotch to her lips. The golden liquid burned down her throat and set a small fire in the pit her stomach, leaving her eyesight as foggy as her window. For the past six years, Lexa’s nights had been like this. Electric blue eyes would yank her out of a deep sleep, leaving her heart racing and her mind flooded with images of golden hair and a smile like the moon; images that could only be suppressed with the city lights and a bottle of Highland Park. 

She staggered slightly as she stepped away from her window and back into the darkness of her room. Her vision clouded further, blurring the world in front of her and leaving her in a state of confusion for a moment as she made her way to the bathroom. The water was cool and refreshing against her heated skin, sobering her slightly. She glanced at her reflection and took in the slight puffiness around her eyes from the silent tears that escaped her. The glazed, green irises seemed to glow in the darkness of the bathroom. The white of her eyes was tinged red due to the alcohol in her system. Small droplets of water dripped off her chin and pooled onto the marble vanity beneath her as she squinted at her reflection. Dark, purple splotches constellated her neck, reminders of the evening’s events. The corner of her mouth twitched upward slightly as she recognized faint, sweet sensation on her tongue. No amount of alcohol had masked the taste of Costia. 

Drying off her face, she turned away from the mirror and padded back into the bedroom. The wood beneath her feet creaked slightly as she stepped toward the large bed. Running her hands through her mocha-colored waves, she gazed at her companion for the evening; a twenty-six year old brown-eyed tender at the local bar Lexa frequented each evening after work. She licked her lips subconsciously as she recalled the memories from that evening.

It had been a particularly difficult workday for the brunette. Her responsibilities as Chief Financial Officer for Kru Corp had included interviewing potentials for the company’s new Director of Finance position. These interviews included panel interviews with multiple HR directors as well as a one-on-one interview with Lexa herself. Each of the finalists were passed off to her and Anya DeLorado, the CEO of the company, for further scrutiny. Currently, there were two finalists that the CEO and CFO had debated over for a longer period than either had desired. A young man by the name of Finn Collins had been Lexa’s choice. The potential employee had years of experience in the financial field and an impressive resume to back him up. He was quick to analyze the numbers, understand them, and provide solutions to the issues he discovered. However, Collins had no experience in the Director position- a factor that uneased the CEO. Anya’s choice, an older man by the name of Thelonious Jaha, was equally experienced in the field and had held the position before, but lost his previous job due to a drug bust within the company. No drugs were discovered on Thelonious, but Lexa was not willing to risk the company’s reputation on a potential drug case. 

The two debated viciously for the majority of the day, gaining little to no progression despite the numerous meetings and candidate interviews. Lexa left the office exhausted, dragging herself over to the bar across the street and later into Costia’s arms. If the bartender held any judgements toward the twenty-eight year old CFO, she did not express them; nor would she ever. Instead, just like every other evening, the sweet woman poured the young executive a few shots of tequila on the house and listened to the woman relay the events of the day until her words began to slur together.

Costia was one of the few people Lexa found comfort with these days. She did not judge the brunette’s vulnerability, but rather encouraged her to embrace it. Soon, Lexa found herself wanting to push the customer-employee boundaries, developing a deep friendship with the bartender. 

Aside from her bartending job, Costia was a starving musician. Her coffee shop gigs were popular amongst the Manhattan locals and Lexa would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy attending a performance or two after work. Conveniently, those performances came with a side of heated makeout sessions behind whatever coffee shop they were at that Friday night. Often, this led to the two of them waking up the next morning in a pile of hotel sheets. The two would spend a short time sipping at the complimentary coffee and then follow it with a reflection of the previous night’s events. The bartender’s presence was comforting to the young executive. Their friendship had ignited a whisper of a flame in her chest, the ghost of a wildfire that had long been stamped out. Maybe that is why this time, after a spell of caramel fingers in thick curls and pale curves pressed against the brick walls of New Ground Coffee’s back alley, she finally decided to bring the bartender back to her apartment rather than purchasing a hotel room for the evening. Whatever the case, the bartender’s chocolate-colored eyes almost popped out of her head when she took in the large penthouse the brunette resided in. She should have commented on it then because after a moment, Lexa’s name was the only intelligible sound that rolled off her tongue.

Slipping back into the satin sheets, Lexa let out a small breath into the memory foam pillow. Her vision was still hazy from the alcohol, but she refused to shut her eyes. The images that woke her just an hour before continued to flash across her mind. Every strand of golden hair, every curve and crevice of lightly tanned skin; every piece of her past that she had committed to her memory had invaded her mind like a swarm of bees. The brunette blinked the images away and searched for something to distract her from the impending flood of soft lips and eyes like the rain.

Her eyes drifted across the soft skin of Costia’s back, her pigment like the moon against the black bedspread. A small tattoo of a bow and arrow decorated her left shoulder blade. Underneath, several streaks of red, trailing from the tops of her shoulders and down the length of her back; evidence of Lexa’s desperate attempts to keep the bartender as close to her as possible. The brunette bit her lip as she recalled the moment. She reached out to lightly trace the inked weapon. Costia shifted slightly in her sleep as the tan fingers brushed across her skin. The satin comforter fell slightly in the process, exposing the delicious curve of her buttocks. Green eyes soaked in the new sight and the young executive shuffled closer to press her bare chest into the warmth of her companion. Contentment spread within her and she nuzzled her face into the dark hair. It was nice to not be alone for once. It was nice to feel something other than the constant throbbing of her lonely soul. The emotion had been so present in the brunette’s life that it had gradually become a part of her personality. It had etched itself into her skin and took residence in her veins; a constant reminder of the things she had lost.

She continued her exploration of her companion’s back for a few moments, ceasing only when exhaustion began to settle into her bones for a second time that evening. Her eyelashes fluttered closed in an attempt to assuage the heaviness in her head and expel the lead in her chest. She focused on the soft smell of Costia’s perfume, allowing it to wrap itself securely around her lungs and lull her back into a dreamless sleep.

-

She woke that morning to the strong smell of coffee, a welcomed testament to the end of the week and whispered promises of the weekend. The sheets next to her were still warm, but the body she had fallen asleep next to was no longer there. Lexa, eyes still closed, craned her neck to seek out the soft humming from the kitchen. The corners of her lips twitched slightly as she listened to the Costia’s melodic voice drift throughout the apartment. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting slightly as the sunlight streamed through her floor-to-ceiling windows. She sat up, glancing over at the night stand to check the time. A small glass of water and a bottle of Aspirin distracted her for a moment. She chuckled lightly at the bartender’s kindness before popping the pills into her mouth. As her lips wrapped around the rim of the glass, she watched the morning sky from the bed. She stared out the window and waited for the medicine to ease the dull throbbing in the back of her head.

The sun itself was barely awake, but the city itself was bustling with life. Weekend-workers shuffled to their jobs while other citizens enjoyed their coffees or runs through Central Park. The constant melody of car horns and sirens filled the air, a soundtrack to the immortal city.  
A small smile graced Lexa’s lips as she allowed her mind to run free. As she gazed at the pastel colors of the sky, images of canvas and watercolor sets invading her mind. 

_A pale hand dipped a brush twice into a water-filled wine glass before gathering the paint onto the tip. The other hand tucked a golden strand of hair behind a small ear as the brush swept across the fresh canvas in thin strips of pastel pink. The room the woman was in was not Lexa’s apartment bedroom, but rather a small dorm room in southern California. The small window did not look down on the skyscrapers of Manhattan, but out past the various buildings and residences wedged between the dorm and downtown Los Angeles. Lexa watched the blonde woman with younger eyes. Lips pulled back over teeth as she watched. Smiling felt natural this time. It wasn’t the usual grimace that had etched itself into the brunette’s face after all these years, but a bright and alive smile. One that spread from the warmth in the depths of her heart to her lips in one smooth wave. The blonde glanced back at Lexa with a matching expression._

_“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. Lexa’s young smile faded as she nodded, unable to speak. The beauty of the blonde caused her heart to quiver and it had taken residence in her throat. She knew she had to leave soon, but the sight before her was intoxicating. She couldn't help but linger for a little while longer._

_Swallowing, she sat up and crawled across the small bed,and perched herself on the edge behind the blonde. The artist had since returned to her canvas and began to capture the city on the horizon. Lexa reached out, tracing her finger down the woman’s bare back, admiring the soft skin and watching in awe as the goosebumps rose beneath her fingertips. The blonde shuddered, but continued her painting as Lexa’s fingers explored her. It was when the tanned fingers on the middle of her back disappeared and the soft skin of Lexa’s lips replaced them that she sat her brush down and turned her head to look down at the culprit._

_“You’re beautiful, Clarke,” the brunette whispered against her skin, standing to wrap her arms around the woman’s waist and press her bare front against her. Clarke reached down to lace their fingers together._

_“You’re so warm,” she smiled and rubbed her thumb across Lexa’s pinky. The brunette closed her eyes at the sound of her voice. The sound crashed into her in gentle waves, caressing her and inviting her further into the deep, blue abyss. She could not help but follow it. She could drown in it, but she did not care. In this moment, she would gladly die at Clarke’s hand, enveloped in her warmth as the air was slowly sucked out of her lungs. The world could fade to black as long as Clarke was the last thing she saw._

_They stood like this, watching the sunrise together and enjoying the simplicity of it all. Just two girls whose unspoken love fueled the stars. The rest of the world did not matter at this point. As far as they were concerned, it was just the two of them and the art in the sky. Lexa’s lips brushed the blonde’s shoulder every now and again as they stared out the window. It was not until the pink and orange blend of the sky was replaced with the soft blue of the early day that Clarke turned in Lexa’s arms. She cupped the soft cheek and gazed into the emerald orbs in front of her. Silent tears had escaped Lexa’s eyes as they watched the sky changed, her body’s rejoinder to the beauty she found in that moment. The blonde rubbed at the drying streaks that coated her companion’s cheek as her gaze flicked down to the trembling lips before her._

 

A loud buzz snapped Lexa out of her thoughts. The memory faded into a small warmth in the back of her skull and the cold reality began to wrap its dry fingers tightly around her bones. 

_Clarke is gone. I left her._

Her arms felt heavy; as if the six words had injected lead into her veins, chasing the blood back into her throbbing heart. She wiped harshly at the tears that began to spill over. She could not be weak now. The memory still burned behind her eyes, bright, brilliant, and eternal. 

Her phone buzzed again as she took in a shaky breath. She glanced over at her nightstand, half-tempted to let it go to voicemail. As soon as she saw Anya’s name on the Caller ID, however, her spine straightened and she grabbed the device.

“Anya,” she said simply. A phone call with her boss did not call for pleasantries. Especially if she was calling on the weekend.

“You were right,” the woman stated firmly. “While Jaha is quite the candidate for our Director position, his past relations with his previous company are, for lack of better words, sketchy.” 

Lexa smirked as she listened to her boss’s voice fill with disgust at the slang. “I am glad we can see eye-to-eye on this, Anya. Collins is qualified, it is evident in his resume, and he seems willing to learn from the company and expand his knowledge of the financial world.”

“It’s up to you, Woodson. He will report to you, not me. I may be the CEO, but you keep this company financially stable. You must have a good system beneath you and that includes a well-qualified partner to help carry the load.”

“I have faith in him, Anya.” And though Anya could not see it, the brunette’s green eyes were ablaze with determination. She would make her boss proud. She would make herself proud. She did not spend all those years in college with her nose buried deep into her accounting textbooks for nothing. 

“Extend him the offer today,” the executive replied. “Have him get in touch with Quint in HR and we will negotiate his start date. You better be right about him, Woodson.”

As soon as the final syllable left Anya’s mouth, the brunette heard the line go dead. She closed her eyes for a moment, reflecting the previous conversation. Yes, she did have doubts of her own about the young man’s lack of experience. However, there was a soft tug in the pit of her stomach that told her he was the best choice. It was faint, but it was something she could not ignore. 

Her green eyes glanced back down at her phone, only to flick back up again as Costia padded into the room donning Lexa’s black, satin robe. Her soft brown eyes seemed to smile at the brunette as she climbed back into the large bed with two mugs of coffee. Lexa gratefully took her cup from the bartender, taking a small sip of the hot beverage. In college, she took her coffee black; the bitterness of the drink seemed to zap her into a more focused state of mind, something she need to get through the hours of accounting and statistics classes. After she met Clarke, however, she would make it how Clarke took it- two sugars and four pumps of french vanilla cream. It became her little tradition for the weekends; one she had not managed to break despite the fact that the blonde hair tickling her neck was long gone and the air was no longer filled with the soft hums of “La Vie En Rose”. 

What had changed was the increasing bitterness of the weekend coffee. The morning sky was still there. Hell, Lexa still drank the coffee from the same lilac-colored mug every time. She had never been one to let go of the past. Even if that meant enduring the sharp pain in her chest from the moment she opened her eyes. 

“Morning, Lex,”Costia’s soft voice paused the memories that had threatened to break free for the second time. Soft lips grazed the skin of the brunette’s shoulder. She cursed internally for losing herself in her thoughts again, but relief settled into her system as she felt her companion press into her.

Lexa looked down at the woman, smiling at the sensation. Her shoulders relaxed into her touch, her spine softened beneath her fingers and the brunette relished in the small burn of lust that took residence in the pit of her stomach. 

She sat her coffee down on her nightstand and moved to wrap her arms around Costia’s waist. She pinned the bartender underneath her, paying no attention to the coffee mug that was still gripped tightly in the woman’s hand. The dark liquid sloshed in the cup, a couple drops meeting the soft sheets. Neither woman seemed to mind, though as their lips moved against each others in a seductive waltz.

The younger woman smiled into the kiss and sat her cup down on her own nightstand before tangling her fingers into the soft waves. Her breath hitched in her throat and her shoulders pressed further into the bed as a tanned thigh slipped between her own. 

When the first whimper rang through the air, her grasp became more desperate. The brown eyes fluttered closed as she felt the brunette’s lips slowly spread into a smile against her chest. Her toes curled slightly against Lexa’s calf, gently massaging the taut muscle and anchoring herself to the blissful moment. 

Behind her own closed lids, Lexa watched the flashes of gold and ocean eyes.


	2. Two

_“I don’t want to forget you” the pleading blue eyes seared into green. When the world around them was falling apart, Lexa’s eyes were the only thing that would keep Clarke from floating off into an endless void of uncertainty. This time, however, she felt the anchor slowly begin to melt away, leaving her to stare at her empty palms, bright red from holding on for far too long._

_“You won’t,” the brunette gave her a small smile, yet the slight waver in her voice gave away her own feelings of uncertainty, “I will always be with you.”_

_“You make it sound like you’re dying.”_

_“Without you, I might as well be.”_

-

It was close to 8:30 a.m when Clarke was startled awake by a violent buzzing next to her ear. Her eyes squeezed shut, trying to convince her brain to allow her to slip back into the slumber she was so rudely pulled out of. The buzzing continued, forcing the blonde to crack one blue eye open at the source. Her phone, currently the enemy of all that was good in the world, vibrated against the hard oak of the small nightstand. 

Sitting up, the blonde glanced over at the still sleeping form next to her. Her blue eyes took in her companion for a moment, watching as the muscles of their back rippled slightly as they shifted in their sleep. A small yawn escaped her lips as the blonde grabbed her phone, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to the bright room. She sighed to herself as she looked at the Caller ID, but brought the phone to her ear anyway.

“You slept in,” she whispered into the device. She glanced over at the figure next to her, careful that she was not too loud. “It’s almost nine here.”

It was an unknown number, yet it was what woke her up each morning. Each time she answered it, she was met with complete silence. It was as if the phone had not rung at all and the blonde was just sitting there, listening to an empty line. Only when she heard the three beeps that signalled the death of the call that she sat her phone down. 

This happened almost every day for the past two years. At first, she ignored the call or sent the caller straight to voicemail, cursing at the rude awakening before slipping back into her dreams. After a time, she began to answer it with the intent of telling the caller that they had the wrong number, only to receive radio silence on the other end. The consistent calling grew to be increasingly nettlesome as the days went by; the caller somewhat determined to wake her up each morning.

A Thursday morning, two months into the stream of mysterious calls, Clarke woke up to the buzzing machine yet again. This time, the caller responded, surprising the blonde. She had listened intently into the soft, incoherent sobs of the person on the other end. The person made no further attempt to speak with her, but for the first time, the blonde did not need them to. She simply sat there, attempting to provide as much comfort to the stranger as she could. She was relatively silent herself except for the occasional “it’s okay” or “I’m here for you”. 

Since then, it had become her routine. Each morning, she would answer the phone and listen until the line went dead. At times, she would attempt to fill the silence and slip in the occasional comment about the weather or the weird dream she had the previous night. When the line went dead, she would set her phone down and continue her day. No one in her personal life knew about it and there was no reason for them to. The calls provided a sense of comfort to her as well, knowing that whoever was on the other side was getting by each day with these one-sided conversations as a means of encouragement. She didn't mind paying the extra amount each month if she was helping someone get through their day. Clarke herself would, at times, take advantage of these calls, whispering her own secrets and desires into the device. Sometimes she would talk about her struggles with love or her fascination with world politics. Other times would tell the stranger about her excitement to finally begin Med School in the fall or the frustrations that came with helping a local artist run his gallery in the heart of downtown LA. 

The silent receiver would listen, never saying a word or making a sound. The blonde never needed them to, though. In fact, it was kind of nice to talk about herself on such a personal level for a while; something she rarely allowed herself to do. She was never too revealing, though, she was speaking to a stranger after all. Her friends and family were kept from conversation, but whoever was listening never inquired about them.

Clarke slipped out of bed, phone against her ear, and made her way into the kitchen to put the coffee on. She busied herself with preparing the brew as she listened to the silence on the other end of the line. Her eyes graced across the kitchen to the small window over the sink, she frowned slightly as she approached it. The California sky was a rich blue, the ever-changing canvas of pale yellows and oranges were long gone. She had missed the sunrise again. 

“Did you see the sunrise wherever you are?” She asked, not really expecting a reply. She watched the clouds dance across the sky. Every so often, one would block the sunlight, darkening the kitchen slightly. Clarke thought about the stranger as she poured her coffee. She let her mind run free; who they were, what their life was like, and what compelled them to call her number each morning. She didn’t dare ask, though, afraid to scare them off after the two developed a silent relationship with one another 

“I used to paint it- the sunrise,” she chuckled to herself as she reflected on how the simple phenomenon would elicit so many powerful emotions within her. The brush beneath her fingertips, mapping out the sky with every stroke. The serene grin that played on her lips long after the moment was over. The euphoria she when the first rays peeked over the horizon, almost as if the sun was smiling just for her. She wondered if the stranger on the phone was smiling too.

“Almost every morning since my dad died, you would find me up at six o’clock with my paints. I’d sit in front of my window, or on the roof and wait for the sky to change. It didn’t matter where I was or what time I had fallen asleep. In that moment, I was lost in it. It had been such a large part of me. Every time I paint it, I feel sixteen again; watching the sky with my dad. It was ours.” 

She stared at the blue sky, her smile fading as another cloud passed over the sun. The kitchen darkened again and she slipped into the realization that it had been so long since she had painted the sunrise. It had been so long since she painted anything. Too much had changed in her life and even if she sat down to create, she was afraid of the thoughts that would inspire her. The memories that would guide her hand across her canvas were something the blonde had refused to visit again. She spent too many years trying to suppress the images of the fire in forest eyes and intricate braids in dark hair; they were shoved into a small corner in the back of her mind and left to die there. But she knew that kind of love was immortal; there was no stopping it from flooding every crack and crevice of her existence if she let it loose. So she buried it under years of memories and experiences and strayed far from it with the intent to never return. 

She pulled away from her thoughts and sighed, looking down at the dark countertop. Her thumbs absentmindedly traced the rim of her coffee mug as she cursed inwardly. A couple of tears escaped into the cooling beverage. She wiped at them, unaware that she had been crying.

“I don’t paint that much anymore, though. Despite the fact that I work in an art gallery, I rarely feel inspired. There is just too much going on. I doubt I am any good at it now anyways.” Her voice cracked slightly into the quiet house. There was a comforting silence in the home. All that could be heard was the occasional breeze outside or the soft snores from the bedroom. She pulled the phone away from her ear to check if the call was still alive. Her lips twitched as she looked at the time of the call; an hour had passed by them more quickly than she had realized.

“I’m sorry,” the whisper broke through the silence, causing the blonde to almost drop her device into the mug. The voice was so quiet, Clarke wasn’t quite sure if it had been the stranger or the wind outside. When she came to the conclusion that her silent companion had finally spoken to her, the line went dead. 

The blonde inhaled sharply at the hasty disconnection, but quickly decided not to dwell on it. For some reason, she was not all that surprised at the new development anyhow. Perhaps she had gotten too close to them to really see them as anything less than a friend. Whatever the case may be, she was sure they would call tomorrow. Maybe then she could finally learn more than the sound of their tears and faint whispers. Maybe then, Clarke could finally figure out how to help them. 

She sat her phone down and stepped away from the sink. The young woman yawned and stretched her arms out in front of her, relishing in the delicious pull of her muscles which had stiffened during the conversation. The kitchen was bright again as she pulled a box of Lucky Charms out of the pantry. The sun streamed through the surrounding windows and gently embraced the white wood of the cabinets in its celestial glow. It spilled onto the dark floor beneath her feet and swept across the dark, marble counters into the air. Its warmth eased the tension in her shoulders. She her heart leaped with contentment as it welcomed the peace of the weekend.

A familiar rustling of sheets and pillows caught her attention as she moved to pull the milk out of the french-door refrigerator. She smiled and sat the milk down; he was awake. 

Clarke all but sprinted out of the kitchen, her fuzzy, banana socks slid across the wood flooring of the hallway. Reaching the bedroom, she caught the figure in mid-yawn. She took a minute to admire him; his low-lidded, mocha eyes hid behind the mop of like-colored curls. Long arms were raised above his head as the sleep was stretched from his limbs. His pink lips formed an “o” as he yawned, falling into a light smirk when he noticed the blonde in the doorway. 

“Good morning,” she made her way to the bed to crawl onto the young man’s lap. He beamed back at her, squinting through his shaggy locks before he wrapped his muscular arms around her waist. 

“Morning, Princess,” Finn hummed against her lips. 

“How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead.”

“Your breath smells like the dead.” Clarke scrunched her nose at the sour stench of morning breath. The man smirked and blew into her face, causing her to squeal and pull out of his arms. He laughed before gripping the collar of her over-sized T-shirt and drawing her back to him.

“You still love me.” He muttered.

Their lips united in an innocent embrace, the love between them in its purest form in these moments. He laid back, pulling her down with him, and felt her nuzzle into the crook of his neck. He was so warm and welcoming, the blue-eyed girl couldn’t help but savor it. She curled into him, her hand lifting to draw patterns on his chest; silent promises and confessions to him in the forms of fingertips on skin and lips against a soft cheek. They laid there in the calm silence of Saturday morning. Life moved on outside, but it was quite here. An occasional murmured “I love you” would fill the air and then the world was still again. Neither parted from the other until the sun was high above the city and their stomachs rumbled between them.

When Clarke finally moved to get up, the overwhelming desire to consume at least eighty pancakes flooding into her mind, Finn caught her left hand in his own. He kissed each finger tenderly, a playful glint in his eye. When he reached her fourth finger, he admired the thin, golden band wrapped around the small digit, a large diamond sparkled brilliantly in the late-morning light. 

Blue eyes followed the brown ones and the blonde’s content smile faltered as she watched as the large thumb brushed across the stone. The blissful feeling she possessed just moments ago escaped from her body in one soft breath. A faint chill spread from her heart through her veins, her vision blurred slightly as she felt the muscle her heart clench painfully in her chest. She had almost forgotten it was there. 

“Just one more year, babe,” he turned to look down at his fiancée. 

She quickly masked her frown by cupping the back of his neck and capturing his bottom lip between her own. He gripped her sides firmly as he sensed the large shift in the tension between them, and she pressed further into the soft flesh of his side. As she felt the cotton of her red pajama shorts slide slide down her legs, she opened her eyes; afraid of what she might see if she kept them closed. Her fingers gripped the smooth skin of his shoulders as her hips returned to his lap, the muscles that rippled beneath her palms and kept her anchored into the present. 

“Is this okay?” He rested his hands on her hips and looked into the oceanic orbs above him. Clarke nodded and kissed him again, swallowing down the hurricane of emotion that began to bubble up her throat and masking it with a low moan as he gripped her tightly.

She focused on him; the warm breath against the nape of her neck and the hardness between her thighs. She could not bring herself to submit to the cloud of lust that seeped into the room, but maybe this way, she could ignore the guilt that began to claw its way into her stomach. 

_“I will always be with you.”_  
-

Hot water pounded against her back, trailing down the pale dip of her spine and leaving the skin red in its wake. The steam seeped into her pores, curling into her skin and cleansing the dirt from her aching bones. She squeezed a dollop of shampoo into her palm and began to knead it through her golden mane. Eyes closed, she focused on breathing through the thick, muggy air of the shower. Her skin burned against the water, but she welcomed the feeling, allowing it to relax her back into a peaceful state of mind. Still, her heart twisted and quivered in her chest as she forced herself to remain in the present while her mind fought to pull her deep into the dusty crevices of her past. 

Her inner turmoil as interrupted by the shrill ring on Finn’s phone against the bathroom counter. Clarke gripped the shower curtain to call for him, only to see his naked figure barrell into the room and grab the device.

“This is Finn,” he answered, a certain lilt to his tone. The blonde chuckled at his excitement for whomever had called, causing him to turn slightly to cast a wink in her direction before bringing his index finger to his lips.

 _“Hello, Mr. Collins,”_ Clarke had just caught the voice on the other end of the call as Finn stepped back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Her head snapped up, eyebrows knit tightly together at the familiarity of it. Her heart tugged slightly toward the bathroom door, but she dismissed the feeling. Nothing could be heard properly underneath the consistent pitter-patter of water against tile.

She pressed her forehead against the wall as she listened to the muffled sounds of her fiancé’s voice. Silent prayers echoed into the efflux of water as she snapped off the removable showerhead and washed the product out of her hair. The nervous glint she had seen in his eye suggested this call was about a new finance position opportunity with a multi-billion dollar company in New York. He had not spoken much about it since he returned from the interview about two months ago. Clarke was inquisitive about it once or twice, but her questions were always met with a shrug that held a lot more disappointment than Finn let on. After a while, the two assumed he would never hear back from them. As unfortunate as it was, it was not completely devastating to the couple; Finn enjoyed his accounting job at Weather Industries. The company was quite small, though, and at the rate they were paying him, the couple could not afford to keep the house they lived in for much longer; especially since Clarke’s gallery job was not paying nearly enough to live off of and she had med school to pay for as well. Not to mention the wedding on the horizon. This position could open many doors for the couple, both financially and experience-wise. NYU Med was the best out of the three schools the young woman had applied to for the fall; her grades would earn her a decent scholarship, all she had to do was get there.

Clarke stayed in the shower until the water turned cold, the frigid stream soothing the burns against her back and shoulders. She stepped out, grabbed a towel off the rack nearby and began to dry herself off. As she ran the cream-colored article across her skin, cracked the door open to let the steam out and stepped up to the foggy mirror. Her fingertips brushed across the smooth surface as she bought some time for Finn to finish his call. She drew pattern after pattern, through the steam droplets that took residence there until the mirror cleared and she was left to caress her own reflection. It was then that she noticed the distinct lack of noise coming from the door behind her.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she noticed Finn sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes were trained on his phone as his fingers brushed quickly across the screen. The blonde smirked at his expression before clearing her throat, her eyebrows raised in question. The man glanced up at his fiancée and stood, crossing the room in two large strides before capturing her lips with his own. She gladly returned the kiss, suppressing her squeals of excitement; no words needed to be exchanged between them for her to know what was happening. He pulled back just enough to smile against her lips.

“So, Miss Griffin, wanna get married in New York?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapters! They will get longer as the story progresses! 
> 
> Chat with me at alonelytypewriter.tumblr.com or @Goldenheda on Twitter


	3. Three

_“They’re just books, Lexa. They all tell the same story. Good conquers evil and love conquers all. The end.” Lexa looked down at the head in her lap. Her glasses rested on the pale nose that scrunched upwards as Clarke spoke; the blonde having stnatched them off of Lexa’s face as she read, putting them on to catch her attention. Chocolate locks fell over them in a long curtain as the brunette leaned down to press her lips to the small forehead._

_“They are so much more than that, Clarke. There are so many thoughts, feelings, and worlds that come with them. Together, they create something so magnificent and otherworldly, yet they help us make sense of this world and our lives as well. Saying they are just books is like saying your paintings are just pictures or you are just another girl in my bed.” Clarke reached up to twist one of the dark curls around her finger. She manipulated the silky strands between her fingers as she considered Lexa’s words; tongue in cheek and eyebrows knit together._

_“If I am not just a girl, then what am I?” Lexa blinked at her for a moment, caught in the hopeful sparkle of Clarke’s eyes, slightly obscured by the material of her glasses. She did not know how to answer. Clarke was so many things. She was the woman who crashed into her life like a hurricane, ripping up the walls she had built around her and tossing them miles from her without a thought. She was the excitement that swelled within her whenever she found a new book or fell in love with a song she heard on the radio. She was that song, stuck in her head at all times and rising above the swarm of thoughts in her mind. She was the electricity in her fingertips and the comets that flew through her veins; the air was sucked out of her lungs with each kiss. She was the pungent scent of paint against fresh canvas and Polaroids of old friends scattered across dusty windowsills. She was comfort and terror wrapped up in smooth curves and cigarettes between smirking lips. She was_ Clarke.

_Her throat tightened around the lump that had lodged itself in there since the day they met. Her heart expanded within her, threatening to break through the confines of her chest and present itself to the woman who had beckoned it with soft smiles and ocean eyes. Suddenly, she understood what caused the stars to burn in the night sky and the mountains to rise from the ground to meet them. She was no longer looking at the world through a glass window- she was right in the middle of it with wide eyes, gasping at the clarity and the beauty of it all. Maybe it was too early to feel this way, but Lexa did not care. At this moment, she was there with Clarke. There were candles scattered about the room, their small flames licking at the darkness. There were empty containers of Chinese takeout on the floor beside Lexa’s bed. Then there was Clarke, pale skin and ocean eyes glowing in the soft candlelight. Finally, everything felt right._

_Her lips stretched upwards, the fire in her eyes melted into a soft glow of reverence as she scanned the face below hers. Her thumb smoothed out the crease between the blonde brows and she cleared her itching throat. She spoke, her voice cracking under the weight of her words._

_“You’re everything.”_

_And so the Earth fell in love with the sky._

-

New Grounds Coffee sat along the 8th Avenue stretched in the very heart of the infinite metropolis, squeezed between a local sub shop and a McDonalds. Skyscrapers of all sizes towered over the small building, soaking up the sunlight that barely brushed its dirty window sills. Only when the star was high above the conurbation, would it embrace the coffee shop in its warm, golden glow. If you blinked, you would miss it. Inside, the ambrosial smell of freshly-brewed coffee and warm chocolate-chip muffins seeped into every grain of the wooden floor and captivated the senses of whomever stepped into the small business. It was always crowded with locals or tourists that happened to notice this hole in the wall. There were few tables, so many customers stood. Those who managed to grab a table had the luxury of the worn, beige couches. High top tables were set up by the windows, each accompanied with two tall, metal stools. 

Lexa watched the bustling city through the fingerprint-smudged window of the café, her black Calvin Klein heels tapping absentmindedly against the metal of the stool. Her curious eyes twinkled in the Monday afternoon sun as they glanced at the passerbys, her gaze following them down the street until they disappeared into the sea of people, shuffling to and fro along the Manhattan sidewalks. The sounds of the city, though muffled slightly by the brick walls, were home to her. The constant hum of engines vibrated throughout the city like a heartbeat.. Brakes and tires screeched together as the traffic flowed in and out of the eternally congested roads. Motorists competed with each other to see which vehicle had the loudest horn and sirens responded with promises of arrest if the charades continued. Cart vendors advertised into the thick city air in hopes of attracting people of all kinds to sample their wares. The murmurs of tourists and locals in the streets danced unceasingly around one another, falling together and apart as the minutes ticked on. Shouts of profanities in all different languages would break through these dances time after time filling the streets of New York. It was music to her ears.

A sudden thought to check the time tore the brunette away from the window to pull at the black sleeve of her blazer. Shaking her hand, she coaxed the silver Rolex back down to her wrist. A groan scratched its way up in her throat only to be suppressed by pursed lips. Her meeting with Anya was in fifteen minutes. Hopefully, her final meeting about this damned Director of Finance position. There far more important tasks to take care of. She stood, adjusting the dark grey tie around her neck and running her hand through her hair. Her previously calm demeanour disappeared as she stepped away from the table, replaced by her usual grimace and stiffened posture. Phone and drink in hand, the young executive sent a quick text to the CEO as she maneuvered through the crowded building. 

Horns and sirens greeted the woman as she stepped into the stream of the sidewalk. Her lips wrapped around the green straw of her drink and she quickly made her way to the crosswalk. Kru Corp Towers sparkled against the turquoise sky above her just a few yards down the avenue. The mass of commuters was moving exceptionally fast today and fortunately, it only took a few moments for the CFO to reach the glass doors of the building. 

-

Anya walked into the large office just as the young executive dropped her beverage into the small garbage can beneath her desk. Her dark grey suit jacket hugged her slim frame while the matching skirt caressed the curve of her hips. She was young for a person in that position- only a few years older than Lexa herself. However, everything about her from the straightened spine and the slight lift of her chin, testified of the woman’s authority. The blonde-haired woman grasped her hand firmly in greeting and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of the large desk.

“How was your lunch, Woodson?” She inquired as Lexa took a seat behind the desk. The CFO pulled out a thick manilla folder and a silver pen from one of the drawers. 

“Does a large kale smoothie from New Grounds classify as a ‘lunch’?” The brunette raised a perfectly-arched eyebrow at the woman. “If so, it was fairly underwhelming. It is a nice day out, though.”

“Good God, woman,” Anya’s face contorted in disgust, “eat a damn hamburger once in a while. I think it’s that whole health kick thing that’s been changing your mood. I’m sure a Big Mac can get that stick out of your ass.”

“You eat a burger a week, Anya, what’s your excuse?”

“I have a multi-billion dollar company to run with a health freak of a partner who would rather see how many pull-ups she can do in thirty seconds than drink wine and binge-watch _Grey's Anatomy_ with me on Sundays. I might have to fire you for that.” 

“Touché,” the brunette smirked at her boss, her shoulders relaxing slightly at her boss’s snarkiness.

Anya was the first person she met when she moved East six years ago. At the time, she was interning at Arcadia, a sister company for Kru Corp. that was based in Boston. Anya, the new CEO of Kru Corp was in for the week to meet with Marcus Kane, CEO of Arcadia. The two met in the elevator on Lexa’s first day, the blonde immediately noticing the sad look in her eyes as she told her about the girl she left behind in California. The two hit it off right then and when the young intern experienced with a large bout of depression just a month later, Anya was back in Boston with three pints of Ben and Jerry’s, two bottles of vodka, and her collection of _Saw_ movies. For weeks, she worked out of the office just so she was there hold the younger woman as she screamed into her chest, the increasing stress and exhaustion continuing to shatter the heart she broke when she left the west coast. Anya was there to piece her back together, one shard at a time. 

She was there when the pieces continued to fall apart over and over again.

One year after she began her internship, Lexa left Boston and moved to New York where she was immediately hired into an accounting position for Kru Corp. The hours were longer and the workload was significantly heavier, but Lexa put every piece of herself into her career, distracting herself from the gaping hole that had taken permanent residence within her chest. She, at times, would spend her nights at the office, afraid to face the monster that would awaken within her the moment she stepped into her apartment. 

With her diligence and commitment to the success of the company, she continued to climb the corporate ladder before joining her best friend at the top of Kru Towers. In just four years, Alexandria Woodson’s successes granted her the position as one of the youngest Chief Financial Officers in the country.

Together, the two were an unstoppable force, expanding the company across the globe and bringing in clients and consumers from various countries and cultures, accumulating a large sum of wealth for themselves. All the while, the two owed their personal and corporate successes to each other. Lexa eventually moved out of her studio apartment and made a home for herself in a large penthouse apartment just a few blocks down from Anya’s. She was able to go home after her workdays, but she was never alone. Each night would always end the same- Lexa stumbling over the threshold, drink in hand and a pair of lips attached to her neck.

“So,” the CEO clasped her hands together and leaned back in her chair, the playful expression melting into a firm countenance “show me what you have regarding Mr. Collins.” The brunette opened the folder in front of her, pulling out the crisp documents and laying them out in front of the blonde.

“He accepted the offer over the weekend,” she tapped on one of the documents. “We are starting him at a base of $125,000 with an opportunity of bonus; about thirty thousand more than he made in Los Angeles. Here is a copy of his relocation information.” The brunette paused to hand her boss a thin stack of papers. 

“How quickly can you get him started?” She tucked a strand of dirty-blonde hair behind her ear as she scanned the papers.

“He has already sent in his thirty-day notice at Weather. His last day is June 20th, we can get him in here by the first of July. I want him at our semi-annual budget meeting, even if that means I have to push it back a couple days. It will give him an opportunity to learn the financial aspects of the company and he can provide input regarding our forecasts for the rest of the year.” The older woman did not respond for a short moment. When Lexa looked up, her boss seemed deep in thought, chewing on the inside of her cheek out of habit. 

“We can set him up in a hotel,” Anya suggested. “He can get here in time for the meeting and it will give him more time to find a place. I want him out here the week of his last day. That will give you two more time to discuss the budget and it will also allow you two to learn about each other’s work ethic. You two will be spending a lot of time together.” 

The brunette worked her jaw back and forth at the blonde’s final comment. While the Director position was an idea that proved beneficial for the future of the company and it eased some of the workload off Lexa’s shoulders, it was not absolutely necessary. She liked the long days and the monotony of the workload; they kept her mind working and her hands away from the alcohol. It was an excuse to suppress her darker thoughts and forget the fact that she had been slowly disintegrating all these years. Not to mention the fact that working closely with anyone but Anya was quite displeasing to her.

“You still think this is position is a good idea?” 

Anya scanned her expression, noting the clenched jaw and the thumbs that tapped unsettlingly against the mahogany. She sighed, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward.

“It’s another job for another person, Lexa. That means food on the table and a roof over their head” The CFO was silent as she met her boss’s eyes. As cutthroat and commanding as the young executive presented herself to the world, she could never hide her true feelings from her friend. Thankfully, Anya understood her; maybe even more than she understood herself. “Now, don’t tell me you’re going to miss me, Woodson.”

The brunette rolled her eyes, but the CEO did not miss the slight twitch in the corner of her mouth. 

“He e-mailed me this morning itinerary for a trip out here this Friday. I suppose I can meet with him and run that idea by him.” The brunette gathered the documents into a neat stack and slid them back into the folder. She rested her clasped hands on her desk as the blonde stood.

“I’ll tell you what,” her boss perked up slightly. “What if I host a welcome dinner for him Saturday evening? He can meet some of the accountants and the directors and their significant others. You two can converse about something other than work for a change. He can bring his wife and you can bring that cute bartender you’ve been blowing me off for.” 

“I think he is just engaged, not married,” Lexa chuckled, “and bringing a girl to your boss’s dinner party implies that you are dating, which I am not. We’re just friends.” 

“Yes, I too enjoy spending my Friday evenings knuckle-deep in my gal pals. Just BFF bonding at its finest,” Anya quirked an eyebrow skeptically at the younger woman.

“Let’s not get started on your sex life, Anya,” the brunette shook her head, the chocolate curls whipping against her face as she tried to expel the mental images of her boss. “I really don’t want to revisit my lunch.”

"Whatever, we both know you’re in love with me, Woodson,” the older woman waved the comment off, continuing on before Lexa could retort. “Anyway, I will send Collins the dinner invitation and information about starting him here earlier. I’ll even try to persuade him. For each episode of _Grey’s_ that goes unwatched by my lovely CFO, one percent of her salary will be added onto his.”

“Wow, his fiancée is going to get one hell of a wedding then.” The brunette stood from her chair and walked the woman to the office door. “Come over Sunday morning, Costia will be working anyway and we can spend all day on the couch together. I’ll even let you sit in the massage chair this time.” Anya smiled at her offer and reached out her hand. Lexa grasped it firmly and returned the smile, shaking the hand and sealing her promise.

“You, my friend, have yourself a deal.”

-

Small beads of sweat dotted the expanse of Clarke’s forehead as she moved the tall ladder to the next row of lights. The metal structure squeaked underneath her feet as she climbed the steps. The bright display lights were hot against her fingertips as she situated them toward the large painting. They casted a bright white glow against the piece. Short strands of blonde hair slipped from the floppy bun and stuck to her temples as she worked. The showing was in four days and there was still much to do.

“Raise ‘em just a little bit higher, Griffin,” Raven called from below. The blonde adjusted the light accordingly until the Latina raised her hand to signal her to pause. “Perfect.” 

Clarke climbed down from the ladder and grabbed a cold water bottle off of the gallery’s small bar. Taking a large gulp of the cool liquid, she watched as her friend straightened the artwork against the wall. The piece itself was the largest in the show, but it was not very great to look at. In fact, it was as if the artist covered himself in blue and yellow paints and rolled his naked body across the canvas over and over again. She shuddered at the mental image and sat her water down, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans before crossing the room to help the woman. 

“Why do we even bother with this piece of shit?” Raven grunted against the weight of the piece. “It’s not like anyone’s going to show up at this thing anyway.”

“Slide it over this way a bit,” Clarke ignored the comment and lifted the opposite side of the piece as the other woman shifted it towards her. “A little more- okay, stop there. That should be good.”

“Jesus,” Raven took a few steps back from the piece and took a seat on the small bench behind them. Clarke joined her and held out a bottle of water for her. The Latina nodded gratefully and took a large swing from it before pulling her hairband out of her long, brown hair and running a couple fingers through the strands. “Well, Griffin, your lighting job managed to make this giant piece of shit look a little less like...well, a giant piece of shit. No wonder Atom doesn’t make a damn thing off these shows-I’m pretty sure he just uses his dick as a paintbrush.” 

The blonde chuckled at her coworker’s vulgarity, slapping the tanned shoulder with the back of her hand. She studied the piece and sighed. “Do you think this will be his last one before the place goes under?”

“Nah,” the brunette raised one shoulder before letting it drop. She pulled against the collar of her white T-shirt, allowing the air of the fans above them to cool her heated skin. “He has a couple left in him, but I think that without you here to work your magic, the people will start to see just how terrible his work is.”

“At least you get a doubled salary in that time,” Clarke smirked and rested her head on Raven’s shoulder, she feeling the woman chuckle beneath her. They were quiet for a few moments before she spoke again. “What are you going to do after it’s all over?” 

“I don’t know, Griff,” the brunette’s shoulders slumped slightly. “With the extra cash, I still don’t come close to enough money for my leg surgery. I’ll probably just work at my step-dad’s auto shop for a while. I wish I had stuck with you at USC, then I could be a rich engineer of some kind, prancing around New York with you and Mr. Perfect.”

Raven looked down at her left leg as she spoke, her brown eyes taking in the sight of the black brace as it rested against it. One night just under a four months ago, the Latina was driving home from a long day in the gallery when a large, white F150 appeared out of nowhere and slammed into her mother’s Ford Fusion, wrapping it around a nearby telephone pole. Apparently uninjured, the driver sped off into the night, leaving the brunette pinned between the steering wheel and the seat until the first responders arrived. Her left leg was shattered on impact and she suffered a few lacerations to the head, a broken wrist, and a mild concussion. Even after the bones in her leg were healed, Raven was still unable to walk properly, having suffered significant nerve damage from her foot to her mid-thigh. Since then, the young woman was forced to wear an ugly black brace to help her get around. She was advised not to overwork herself, but the girl, as brilliant as she was, was extremely stubborn. She did not let the accident deter her from doing the things, or people, she loved. 

Recently, however, the Latina found herself struggling more and more against the leg. After many visits to the orthopedic surgeon, it was discovered that the leg was getting little blood flow to it due to the narrowing of narrowing of major arteries in her thigh. In short- the leg was dying. The only way to prevent the leg from getting infected was through amputation; a very expensive surgery and a very difficult recovery process.

Raven was not very wealthy as it was, living in a small studio apartment in West Los Angeles. The art gallery and her mechanic job at Sinclair’s Auto did not earn her enough money to live on, let alone allow her to pay for a $45,000 amputation procedure and a $10,000 dollar prosthetic. She did not even want to know how much the physical therapy would cost. She would be drowning in bills until she was lowered into the grave.

Clarke leaned over to rest her hand on the knee of her friend’s brace. The brunette glanced over, offering her a half-hearted smile as the blue eyes met her own. 

“You can come and prance with us whenever you want, Rave.” 

“Get me a free prosthetic and then we’ll talk about flight plans.” 

“We will figure something out,” she promised. Though her voice wavered slightly, the determined glint in her best friend’s eyes ignited a small spark of hope in the Latina’s chest. She shrugged the head off her shoulder and stood, reaching out a small hand.

“C’mon, Griff. Let’s get this shit show together before Atom comes in and shoves those stupid cowboy boots up our asses.”

Clarke smiled as she took the small hand and stood. She kept her hold firm on Raven’s hand pulled her her arms. She listened to the muffled sigh the Latina let out against her neck as she wrapped her arms around the slim waist. Neither woman said a word as the blonde held her friend and Clarke’s heart could not help but break when she felt the silent tears seep into her T-shirt.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a time, hasn't it? I appreciate everyone who messaged me with their questions and comments! It has been a crazy few months. I am finishing up another semester and I should be updating a lot more often in the coming months. Thanks for sticking with me! It's crazy that it has been a year since Lexa's death, but I am proud of how far the fandom has come since then. You guys are so, so strong.

 

_It was warm that day. Everything was still and it was warm._

 

_The window was cracked open just enough for the light breeze to whip the loose chestnut curls against her cheeks._

 

 _She lifted her gaze from her book for a moment to glance out the window toward the horizon. The ocean looked exceptionally blue that day, glittering beneath the brilliant California sun. If she squinted, she could see the gentle waves lap against the large rocks and mingle with the soft sand before they pulled away again. If she breathed deeply, she could smell the faint saltiness in the air. If she waited just a few more minutes before taking a large sip of her tea, she wouldn’t have burned her tongue,_ again _._

 

_“Shit,” Lexa groaned, pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She sat the mug back onto the dusty windowsill, allowing the breeze to cool the beverage. The steam curled into the air and condensed onto the dirty glass. She rested her forehead against the window and drew shapes through the water droplets. The small pads of her fingertips manipulated the shape of a small sea turtle against the bright blue backdrop of the west coast sky._

 

_Her artistic ventures were quickly interrupted by the sound of the apartment door swinging open and bumping against the loosely-screwed doorstop- which immediately fell to the ground as the door bounced back. Lincoln quickly grabbed the door before it hit him, closing it with a huff. His dark eyes met his sister’s wide, evergreen orbs as he stalked into the living room, backpack slung over one muscular shoulder and dark grey snapback situated on his head. He observed the bushy-haired girl on his windowsill with a tender smile and dropped his backpack on the small, worn out couch._

 

_“You haven’t moved since I left this morning,” he raised his eyebrows in mock concern. Lexa smirked over the mug she brought to her lips, the steam curled beneath her twitching nose._

 

_“Sure I have,” she tilted the mug towards Lincoln, “I made tea just a little bit ago.”_

 

_Her brother’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling as he let out a short laugh and shook his head. Lexa let out her own chuckle and took a sip of her tea. The tangy combination of hibiscus and citrus kissed her senses as it slid down her throat. She let out a small hum over the blue ceramic and sipped._

 

_“Is this all you’re going to do this summer, Lex?” Lincoln leant against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. The brunette shrugged and continued to sip her tea, eyes closed as she savoured it. “It’s your last summer before your internship. You need to get out and meet people.”_

 

_“I have friends,” Lexa defended, opening her eyes to glare at her brother. “I am perfectly content with spending the summer indoors with my books.”_

 

_“When was the last time you talked to any of them since graduation?” Lincoln challenged. When the brunette fell silent, he sighed and took off his cap to scratch his head. “Why come down here then? It was probably better just to stay up in Palo Alto or go back towards home.”_

 

_His sister groaned and turned to look out the window. She didn’t really have an answer for him. He was right- staying at Stanford would have been more convenient. She could have crashed with one of her friends and worked until it was time to leave for Boston. She could keep to herself for the summer without Lincoln’s weekend parties thumping beneath her bed into the morning hours and the occasional couple stumbling into her room in search of privacy. Home was another option, though it was a very unappealing one. Lexa loved Washington with all her heart, most of her childhood and pre-teen years were spent trekking through the mountains and lush forests with Lincoln. The siblings would come home, rain-soaked and muddy from head to toe with large smiles and a collection of cool rocks the found on their journey. The house would smell like the trees and the rain, but the crackling of the fireplace would fill their ears and warm their shivering bodies. Their father would clean off their shoes on the porch and listen to their stories with great interest and their mother would make them citrus tea and rush them off to their rooms to clean themselves up. There was rarely a night where the siblings would go to bed with anything less than a smile on their faces and matching lipstick marks on their foreheads._

 

_Now, there was no warm home to come to, but a dusty shell of a house that once was alight with love and life. There were no pictures on the walls of a bright and whole family, but memories, darkened and muddied by life and death plastered across the greyed walls. The house was tired and dying, like the cold embers of a stamped out fire. There was no father on the porch, scraping mud off her boots, nor was there a mother in the kitchen, pouring warm tea into her favourite purple mug. There were no kisses pressed against her forehead or a sleeping brother on the other side of the wall._

 

_There were two granite gravestones in the centre of American Legion Cemetery and an uncle who could barely provide for himself, let alone two teenagers._

 

_Lexa pushed the thoughts out of her mind and turned to Lincoln with defeated eyes and a half-shrug. Her brother had already read her mind and reached out to rest a strong hand on her shoulder._

 

_“There is a party down at Hermosa tonight. A few of my friends are going to surf and meet a few girls,” he winked and gave her shoulder a squeeze before walking toward the kitchen, “you should come with us and meet a few yourself, Lex. I can tell there’s a lot of tension in your shoulders. Maybe a little massage will do you some good.” Lexa rolled her eyes and grabbed her book from her lap, heaving it toward her brother’s retreating figure. His laugh echoed through the apartment as the book hit the wall next to him with a loud slap before falling to the ground._

 

_She chuckled and looked out toward the ocean again. Her stomach twisted into knots at the thought of leaving the quiet sanctuary of Lincoln’s apartment. Maybe it was about time for some fresh air, though. According to Lincoln, opening a window was “not enough fresh air”, although that was something Lexa was more than willing to debate against._

 

_With a reluctant sigh, the brunette slipped off the windowsill and crossed the living room to pick up her book before sauntering into her room in search for something to wear._

 

_-_

 

“Babe, baggage claim number one is over here,” Finn called over his shoulder. Clarke turned from the airport monitor to follow her fiancé. The five and a half hour flight to JFK was not something the young woman had been extremely fond of. Thankfully, his hand was there for her to hold as they flew. Now that she was on the ground, she had a growing concern of the bruises that may appear after enduring her iron grip for almost six hours straight.

 

She glanced at the time on her phone as she walked toward the baggage claim; the showing at the gallery back home was bound to begin any minute. Her insides ached at the idea of Raven setting up by herself. Especially with her leg getting worse each day. When Finn had first mentioned this trip, she had not realised that she would be going with him. He had failed to mention the dinner party until literally the previous evening. She almost refused to go with him, but when she called Raven that evening, the Latina assured her that she would be fine.

 

_“One of us needs to have some time away from this shithole. You deserve it a lot more than I do. Go have fun, there’s not much left to do for the show anyway.”_

 

Still, the blonde hesitated. With a promise of treating Raven to dinner and a movie the next weekend, she finally packed her bags for New York.

 

Passengers from the couple’s flight gradually began to crowd around the baggage claim as the two approached it themselves. The atmosphere of the airport was filled with the sounds of cheerful greetings and tearful goodbyes. Every so often there would be a crying child or the squeals of reunited friends. Other times, someone in a suit would walk past with a phone practically glued to their ear, droning on about a company crisis or next year’s financial forecasts. Clarke glanced around at the people, only stopping to help Finn pull their luggage from the claim.

 

“Okay,” he said, pulling up something on his phone, “according to my boss, there should be a company car for us here somewhere to take us to the hotel.”

 

No sooner had the words left his mouth that the two saw a well-dressed man with a sign that read “Collins” in large, black font. Finn rushed ahead with the bags, waving to catch the man’s attention. Clarke was right behind him.

 

“Ah, Mr Collins!” The man smiled warmly, taking the bags from his hands. His dark, brown eyes looked over to Clarke and he extended his free hand. “And Mrs Collins!”

 

“It’s just Griffin,” she said politely and chuckled, grasping the hand and shaking it.

 

“For now,” Finn winked at her and wrapped an arm around her waist. The man laughed and nodded, releasing Clarke’s hand and gathering the bags.

 

“My mistake, Miss Griffin,” he smiled and gestured toward the terminal doors. “My name is Bellamy. I will be driving you this evening. The car is just outside.”

 

The three manoeuvred through the crowds of travellers as they exited the terminal. The Kru Corp. car was a black Cadillac Escalade with the company’s golden logo painted on the side. As she waited for the two men to load the car, she traced the art on the door. It was essentially a large and incomplete infinity symbol with the slogan “Ascend Higher” connecting the lines of the infinity together.

 

“The logo is actually new,” Bellamy’s voice appeared from behind her. She turned just as the man reached to open the door. Finn had already climbed into the passenger seat. “Our company executives collaborated on it about a year ago. The story is quite interesting, Miss Anya loves to talk about it.”

 

Clarke quirked a curious eyebrow as the shaggy-haired driver opened the back door and helped her inside. He nodded once she was situated and quickly moved to the driver’s side of the car before slipping behind the wheel.

 

The interior of the company car was nothing short of exquisite. The leather was smooth against her palms as she brushed her hands across the seat next to her. The temperature was not too warm nor too cold, but the perfect degree that allowed the blonde to relax against the cushion as the three sped off toward Manhattan. Clarke gazed out the window and watch the trees and buildings began to merge together, the landscape rising and lowering with each mile. She grew lost in the landscape, her thoughts drowning out Finn and Bellamy’s quiet conversation in the front seats.

 

The sun was just beginning to set when the massive Manhattan skyline rose out of the horizon. The city lights sparkled against the changing skies, creating an image that could never be duplicated. Clarke’s heart thudded gently against her ribcage as it grew with the shorter distance. After a few moments, she was surrounded by it. Her blue eyes sparkled back at the city in greeting as the skyscrapers towered around her.

 

She never wanted to close her eyes.

 

-

 

As the couple exited the vehicle, their footsteps were heavy with exhaustion from the long day. Still, the overwhelming urge to fall asleep standing up did not stop the blonde from taking a moment to gaze at the hotel building as it stretched toward the pink and purple-streaked sky. Whoever was hiring Finn must have been really desperate to have him.

 

Two sharply-dressed men stood in front of the large glass doors, engaged in a small chat with one another. Long, black overcoats rested on their shoulders, falling past their waist to meet the knees of finely-pressed matching pants. Their leather shoes were finely polished and glinted in the setting sunlight as they turned to focus their attention on the new-arrivals. Spotless white gloves were slipped over their hands and each sported a golden name tag clipped to their chest pocket. As the trio approached, they pulled on the gleaming bronze handles and simultaneously tipped their black, patent-leather top hats in greeting, revealing the patches of greying hair that had been tucked underneath.

 

A small gasp sucked between Clarke’s teeth as she was welcomed by the opulent interior behind the opening doors. The immaculately-polished marble floors stretched across the lobby, decorated by series of gold and light-blue patterns until they met the soft carpeting of the lounge on the other side. Smooth, ivory walls reached up to touch the flat, like-coloured ceiling, broken by long, white wooden beams that marked the separation of each area of the lobby. The expanse above them curved up, the colour darkening to a warm, orange hue as it formed a slight dome above the middle of the lobby, only to curve back down, lighten in colour, and flatten out once again.

 

The hotel staff were stressed alike in sharp, black suits with nameplates similar to those of the doormen outside. The only difference between outfits were the ties that each staff member sported- all dark in colour, but in various shades of purples, blues and greys. They spoke to their clients with dazzling smiles and cheerful crinkles around their warm eyes. Candles burned around them, emitting a subtle scent of French vanilla into the air and relaxing the inhabitants with every breath they took.

 

She trailed behind Finn and Bellamy as they went to the check-in desk, sparing no second look as if this were any normal hotel under the sun. To Clarke, this was a luxury she felt she did not deserve. The entire experience felt far from real and the weekend had barely begun. It was like she stepped into a dream- one she could not for the life of her wake up from. Not that she wanted to. Instead, she practically floated toward the elevator; her blue eyes soaked in as much as they could before the metal doors closed in front of them.

 

The suite itself was something out of Heaven. Fresh, white paint coated the walls of each room, the scent causing Clarke’s eyes to flutter closed for a moment. When she opened them again, she moved into the front room, her fingers dragging over every surface and committing the textures to memory. A small, beige couch and three like-coloured chairs seat on the plush, alabaster carpet. Between them sat a small coffee table. A sparkling, crystal vase of white roses rested upon the smooth mahogany surface. Clarke smiled as she recognised Kru Corp’s golden logo on the front of a small white card. She glanced back at Finn, who was chatting with Bellamy by the door, before turning toward the large windows. The gold curtains were drawn, revealing the breathtaking view of Central Park below them. The treetops were awash with the remaining sunlight and the surrounding skyscrapers glimmered against the darkening sky.

 

Following the overwhelming desire to crawl into bed and sleep for another decade or so, Clarke made her way into the massive bedroom. The king-size bed was pushed against the back wall, covered in white blankets with golden throw pillows resting upon them, supported by large, billowy pillows behind them. A flat-screen television hung on the wall opposite the bed next to the door.

 

Clarke flopped down onto the bed with a content sigh. The bed relaxed under her body and she sunk down into the soft mattress, running the pads of her fingers over the silky comforter. The comforting smell of fresh linen reminded her of home. Her heart twitched for her own bed, but the dip next to her quickly suppressed it. She turned onto her side as Finn wrapped an arm around her hip. His chest bumped against her nose with every breath he released and she nuzzled further into it, allowing his scent to wash over her.

 

“What do you think?” He kissed the top of her head and brushed golden strands off the pale cheeks. His lips were pulled into a gentle smile and pride swam in his dark eyes. She curled further into his warmth and his grip around her tightened.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she mumbled into his shirt, eliciting a chuckle that rumbled beneath his chest.

 

“I know you love California,” he whispered into her hair, “but I think we will be happy here.”

 

She nodded against him, a sad smile on her lips. Her heart thumped against her chest as she thought about her home.

 

That is until a familiar flash of green clawed its way from the crevices of her mind. Her heart clenched painfully at the intrusion and she coughed against Finn’s chest in an attempt to mask the small gasp that slipped between her quivering lips. Her hands clenched into tight fists behind his back and she held them there, her knuckles white and threatening to break through the creamy skin.

 

-

 

The cigarette hung loosely between the plump lips, rolling gently over pearly teeth as Lexa searched her pockets for a lighter. An annoyed groan bubbled in her throat as she patted the pockets of her blazer. Silently chastising herself for forgetting a light, she made a mental note to pick one up from the convenience store on the way home. Another gruelling day of budget meetings and interviews had her tendons in knots and left a dull throbbing in her temples.

 

She glanced around the dimly-lit bar, tapping her tongue absentmindedly against the cigarette. It was quiet for a Friday evening. A middle-aged woman sat a few stools down from the young executive, absentmindedly twirling the straw of her beverage as she glanced down to her phone. Two men leant against the peeling red paint of the back wall, tipping their bottles of Blue Moon toward the other as they engaged in a hushed conversation. A small Budweiser light flickered over the unusually vacant pool table and the local news flashed across the television in the corner. Dust settled into the oak wood floor, only to be pushed up by the occasional scratch of a metal barstool.  Everything was still and, on an average night, it would have been welcomed, but Lexa was desperate for the noise of a crowd. She longed for anything to distract her from the growing hollowness she felt in her chest- even if that meant enduring a painful headache later on.

 

“What have I told you about smoking in my bar?” A stern voice caught the brunette’s attention. She glanced up as the bartender leant over the counter to pluck the cigarette from her lips. Dark eyes bore into hers, causing the brunette to flinch back slightly before regaining her composure as she recognised the voice. Finally, a distraction. A playful smirk threatened to spread across Lexa’s lips, but she suppressed it, opting instead to raise a challenging eyebrow. Costia, however, could not fight her own half-smile as she placed the cigarette between her own teeth and pulled out a lighter from her back pocket.

 

“I was hoping you wouldn't notice,” green eyes watched as the bartender lit the cigarette and took a long drag. She pulled out a fingerprint-smudged tumbler from the shelf and removed the cigarette. The cloud of white smoke curled around her smirk as she placed the cigarette between Lexa’s lips and straightened once again. The young executive lifted her chin slightly in thanks and took a small drag herself. Her eyes fluttered as the nicotine seeped into the walls of her lungs and she held it there in hopes it would relax her bunched up muscles.

 

“What will it be?” Costia asked, tracing a finger around the rim of the glass. Lexa’s eyes flicked down and watched as the pale digit made revolution after revolution. She exhaled as she watched and a thick cloud of smoke brushed across the sticky, ash-covered surface of the bar. Her tongue flicked across the cigarette once. Then twice. Three times. Her eyes never left the glass and she cleared her quickly drying throat.

 

“Highland. Neat.” She pulled the cigarette from her lips. Costia chuckled and turned to pull the glass bottle from the shelf behind her.

 

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only regular who drinks this stuff,” she teased, dropping four ice cubes and pouring a generous amount of golden liquid into the awaiting glass. “Of course, you always have a taste for the more luxurious things.”

 

Lexa shrugged a shoulder and took a sip from the tumbler, extinguishing the cigarette in the small ashtray Costia had slipped in front of her. A small, approving noise wrapped around the glass as she tasted the beverage, eager to get the alcohol into her system. Maybe then she would finally avoid the growing thoughts of golden sands and vast oceans. For years they had plagued her mind, and they were only getting stronger. Her jaw clenched and she brought the drink to her lips once again. The next sip was longer, the smooth liquid like fire in her throat, but she welcomed it. The bartender watched as she downed the drink, pouring more into the glass once the brunette sat it down.

 

“Highland today. What has you down?” she tried, finally sensing the tension in the muscles that rippled beneath the black blazer. Lexa only offered another shrug in response before returning to her beverage.

 

She sipped silently, willing the golden liquid to burn away the throbbing ache that had settled between her lungs. She felt Costia’s gaze, warm and worrying against her left cheek, but she stared straight ahead. Her green eyes focused so intensely on a half-drank bottle of Jack Daniels that she was almost certain the glass would shatter under her glare.

 

Soft footsteps echoed away, following a small sigh and the scrape of glass against the counter. Her eyes followed the retreating bartender’s figure. Guilt bubbled up her throat in a thick, bitter batter and she swallowed it down where it settled heavily in the pit of her stomach. It was enough to expel the scorching visions that had plagued her mind for weeks on end but only for a moment.

 

She sat the glass down as the satisfying drunken cloud settled over her. Her shoulders relaxed and she slumped toward the bar, propping her chin up with her hand in an attempt to steady her heavy head.

 

The bar was quiet except for the shuffling behind the counter. The two men in the back had long gone; the woman on the stool disappeared with them. The Budweiser light flickered out and the 8-ball settled against the corner of the pool table. Outside, it began to sprinkle and a siren echoed down the street.

 

Lexa turned, chin in hand to glance down the bar at Costia. The bartender wiped at the same spot over and over with a dirty blue cloth. Her brow was furrowed and her lip jutted out the way it does when she is immersed in her thoughts. Stray brown curls fell over her eyes as she scrubbed. Guilt churned in Lexa’s throat and it burned more than the scotch she had just consumed. Her hand twitched against the rough wood of the counter, her jaw worked back and forth as her heart throbbed between her aching lungs. Her mind raced as she sought a remedy to the hurt in those young mocha eyes. Too many times had Lexa taken her frustration out on the bartender. Costia’s warmth and careful concerns were always met with ice cold indifference or stinging words. None of which she deserved. There was always something crawling just under Lexa’s skin, growling and snarling at those who dare to tame the beast. It wasn’t until her blood intertwined with the familiar burn of alcohol did the beast fall silent.

 

She cleared her throat, drawing Costia’s gaze back to her.

 

“What are you doing after your shift tonight?” Lexa leant further into the bar, blinking through her foggy vision. Playfulness glinted in her green eyes and her heart began to warm at the soft, responding smile that played on Costia’s lips. The young bartender moved toward her and leant across the small counter. Something flickered behind her dark eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. A pale hand reached across the counter and rested atop Lexa’s twitching one. Her eyes grew soft again, warm and reassuring to Lexa that the world wasn’t all bad.

 

“Whatever you want to do.” Costia’s smile grew. Lexa could almost see her teeth glinting in the low light.

 

For the first time in a long time, Lexa’s heart skipped a beat.

 

-

 

Clarke’s phone did not ring the next morning.

 

-

 

Lexa felt as if she had forgotten something important.

 

-

 

 _His breath was hot against her neck. It was as if she spilt acid onto her skin, burning deep into her throat, leaving her soul charred and screaming. It wasn't her, it wasn’t her, it wasn’t_ her _._

 

-

 

Lexa trapped the bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently as a low growl tore its way up her throat. The body writhed beneath her as she tangled her fingers in the dark locks, releasing the bruised lip and immediately sucking on it as she felt the woman clench around her curled fingers. Muffled moans increased in volume as Costia fell over the edge for the third time that night. The low light of the sunset glinted off the fine sheen of sweat that had covered the pale body; Lexa couldn’t help but release the woman’s lips and watch as she came undone, allowing the screams to fill the early-evening air. Thankfully, there were no neighbours to worry about.

 

The brunette rolled off the bed as Costia caught her breath, wrapping her black robe around her body and picking up the scotch tumbler from her nightstand. As she took a large swing from the crystal glass, she raised an eyebrow at the brown eyes that stared back at her.

 

“You never let me take care of you anymore,” the bartender pointed out. The unspoken question lingered between the two as Lexa returned the glass to the nightstand and swallowed down the smooth liquid. She sat down on the edge of the bed and Costia crawled up behind her. The satin slid gently off her shoulders, joining the wooden floor once again. Soft lips grazed the shoulder with feather-light kisses as the bartender pressed her front into the gentle slopes of Lexa’s back.  Their arousal mixed with the faint scent of Costia’s perfume seemed to thicken the air between them. “I know I am nowhere near as good as you are, but I feel like you give me more than I give you.”

 

“You know you don’t need to,” The brunette closed her eyes at the bartender’s touch. “I tend to get off just at the sight of you.”

 

The lie was easy, but the wetness between her thighs was unsettling to the young executive. She craved to be touched, but by different hands. Her chest twitched with uncertainty at the thought of submitting herself to the wrong person. She enjoyed expressing dominant behaviour over those she slept with; her authoritative attitude having followed her to the bedroom each night. Her past lovers up until Costia never seemed to mind her desire for dominance, instead, they remained docile beneath her tanned hips, their hungry eyes begging the brunette to claim them. They would fall asleep not long after their fourth climax, too exhausted to return what they had been given. Lexa would lie awake, trembling under the weight of her past before exhaustion overtook her. She would wake up cold despite the warm bodies wrapped around her.

 

Costia was different, though. She was safe, comfortable, and understanding. Eventually, she became the only one Lexa had even the slightest desire to sleep with. In her moments of weakness, she would submit to Costia, desperate to release the tension that had built up within her after a while. Though those moments were rare, the change scared the young executive; maybe she was getting too close to the brown-eyed bartender.

 

The dextrous fingers kneaded into the smooth skin of Lexa’s back, breaking her thoughts and enticing a low moan from her lips as the strained muscles relaxed under Costia’s fingertips.

 

“I want to,” Costia whispered into the back of her neck, kissing the tattoo that stained the caramel skin. Her tongue slipped between her lips as they traced the infinity symbol. Her arms wrapped around the young executive, gently scraping her nails down the sculpted abs and back up again. Lexa’s eyes fluttered closed when Costia sucked on the sensitive spot just under her ear, her mind flashing gold again as lust burned low in her stomach. She turned her head, exposing her neck further as the bartender continued her quest, marking every inch of the smooth skin. _It’s okay. Costia is safe._

 

A noise from the living room startled them both. Lexa’s head snapped up quickly, bumping Costia’s in the process. The two hissed in pain as footsteps quickly made their way toward the bedroom.

 

“Woodson?” Anya’s voice rang through the apartment.

 

“Jesus Christ,” the brunette stood up, throwing on her robe just as the blonde CEO barged through the bedroom door. “Anya, what the hell are you doing here?”

 

“Oh good Lord, Woodson,” Anya’s eyes widened at the sight of the two naked girls, “put some fucking clothes on, you’re not wearing your birthday suit to my dinner party. Which, speaking of, is in a half hour. You were supposed to be bringing the cheese plate, you asshole. There is no cheese plate on your counter. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” The honey-coloured eyes glanced over to the bartender, who stared back with flushed cheeks and eyes as wide as the moon itself. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

 

Lexa grabbed one of the pillows off the bed and threw it in her boss’s direction as she scrambled to pick up her clothes off the floor. “Do you not know what a closed bedroom door means?”

 

“Better question- when you leave a damn key underneath the doormat for me, do closed doors even matter at that point? Besides, there was no sock on the door. You could very well have been doing yoga or some foreign shit I can’t pronounce.”

 

“We’re not in fucking college, Anya.”

 

“Point taken,” Lexa pulled out a fresh pair of panties from her dresser drawer. “Those are cute, are they Victoria’s Secret or Dillard’s? I’m more of a Nordstrom person myself, but you seem like a lace type of person-”

 

“Anya,” Green eyes bore a hole into the blonde’s forehead, annoyance dripping from her tone and Anya took that as an incentive to step out of the room.

 

“Right, sorry,” The CEO cleared her throat and stepped toward the door, “You have ten minutes, Woodson. As much as I envy the fact that you're getting laid, you’re not blowing this party off. And you better be at least halfway sober by the time guests start arriving.”

 

“Got it, boss,” the brunette grumbled, adjusting the sleeves of her black button-up and slipping into a pair of neatly-pressed khakis.

 

“That’s my girl,” the CEO smirked at her friend. Before she pulled the door closed, Anya paused to look over at Costia who had been watching the altercation. “Love the tattoo, sweetheart.”

 

When the door shut, the two women stared at it for a few moments. The bartender looked over at the young executive as she buttoned her pants. “Do you think she was commenting on my shoulder tattoo?”

 

Lexa sighed as she turned toward the closet in search of her favourite pair of Oxfords, “Knowing her, she was probably talking about the one on your ass.”

 

-

 

White heels echoed throughout the lobby as they knocked against the marble floor. Her freshly-manicured fingers were wrapped around Finn’s forearm as he led her to the front of the hotel. The red evening dress gently caressed the curves and slopes of her body, Bellamy nodded to the couple and opened the doors with a smile before moving around to the driver’s seat. This time, Finn accompanied her in the back of the car, his hand never untangling from hers.

 

“Miss Anya’s apartment is just a few blocks down from here,” he glanced at the two in the rear-view mirror. The car pulled onto the street and into the steady traffic. Clarke watched out the window at the buildings as they passed by. Although the sun was far below the horizon, everything was so bright and promising. She could not help but smile at the thought of what the future in the city may hold for her. She would miss California, but it was always there to visit. It was all old to her, its stories had been told and all she could do was live in it; stuck in time and forced to relive memories that she had desperately tried to suppress.  New York was new, whispering fresh mysteries to her in the form of concrete and car horns. She wanted to unlock its secrets one block at a time.

 

Next to her, she felt Finn fidget in the leather seat. Soft hands squeezed larger ones reassuringly as they approached their destination. He smiled down at her and kissed her forehead in response. The door opened next to him, signalling that they had arrived at Anya’s complex. It was tall, _very_ tall, but not menacing in the slightest. In fact, it only fuelled Clarke’s excitement as they climbed out.

 

When Bellamy’s car pulled away, the couple stepped into the lobby and headed for the elevator. It was a long ride up to the penthouse which only allowed for the blonde’s nerves to settle in. Her body shook with anticipation, only to be smothered, but not expelled when Finn’s arm wrapped around her waist. It was evident on his clean-shaven face that he was nervous, but the jovial glint in his eyes gave away his excitement as well. He knew his bosses, already, but this party was a lot more intimate than a business interview. He was opening up his life for them and it was understandably unsettling. She squeezed his arm with smiling eyes and he returned with a smile of his own, pressing it to the top of her head.

 

Clarke had just leant further into her fiancé when the elevator dinged and the metal doors slowly opened. The elevator doors opened to a small, white-tiled foyer. A large Welcome mat covered part of the tile and the two wiped their shoes off respectfully when they approached the door.

 

Finn rapped his knuckles once, twice, three times on the large, wooden door. After a beat, the door opened to reveal a tall, sandy-haired woman with sharp cheekbones and almond-coloured eyes. Her blouse was a waterfall of red fabric, flowing from her shoulders over her torso and down to disappear into a tight, black pencil skirt. A crisp, white blazer rested, unbuttoned atop her shoulders. Her feet squished uncomfortably into a pair of red pumps and Finn smirked, knowing the young CEO preferred her combat boots and ripped jeans over this “business bullshit” as she liked to call it. Anya grinned up at the man, enveloping him in an almost-aggressive hug.

 

“Collins! We’ve been waiting on your ass for ages!” She exclaimed. Finn laughed at his boss’s less-than-professional greeting.

 

“Sorry, An. This one takes forever to get dressed,” he inclined his head over to Clarke, who stood behind him with a surprised expression.

 

“Oh yeah! Jasper mentioned that you’d be bringing the fiancé over,” Anya’s gaze shifted to the blonde, who fidgeted under the CEO’s stare. The golden eyes roamed over Clarke, narrowing slightly as they met the blue eyes. Her smile faltered for a moment as the blonde extended a soft hand. A small twitch in Anya’s brow reflected the gears beginning to turn in her head. Something about this blonde was too familiar. The smirk quickly returned, however, and she grasped it firmly.

 

“You must be Anya,” Clarke acknowledged, not noticing the slight shift in the CEO’s demeanour, but rather offering a brilliant smile that masked the storm of nerves beneath her flesh. “I’m-”

 

“Finn!” A tall, lanky man appeared behind Anya, causing the three to jump in surprise. A pair of goggles rested atop his shaggy head and a wide smile took up half his pimpled face.

 

“Jasper,” Finn laughed, grabbing the young man’s hand, “It’s been a while.”

 

“Only a few months, brother,” Jasper grinned at Finn, before glancing over to Clarke. “And you must be Finn’s fiancé.”  He grasped her hand and gave her a sultry smirk.

 

“Ajonteé,” he lowered his voice to an unappealing husk before pressing his lips to her hand.

 

“Good lord, Jas,” Anya rolled her eyes, “Keep it in your pants.”

 

Finn’s brows raised as he puffed out a wheezy chuckle. Clarke felt his fingers curl around her own.

 

Anya waved them inside, playfully shoving Jasper into the apartment. The couple shuffled behind the retreating figures, taking in the cream walls and the large number of colourful abstract paintings that decorated them. The blonde’s eye lit up as she analysed the artwork. Finn squeezed her hand with a smile.

 

“Anya collects,” he said, pointing to one, “They are all originals. A few grand for each of them.”

 

The gaggle of voices grew louder as they approached the living area of the penthouse. Clarke’s grip tightened around Finn’s hand, eliciting a small laugh from him. There were easily forty people spread around the room and into the kitchen. Some lounged on the cream-coloured leather couches, others leant against the white marble countertops, or leant against the art-covered walls. Some turned as the couple approached the gathering, shouting Finn’s name with dazzling smiles and extended hands. Somewhere down the line, his hand had escaped Clarke’s iron grip and clasped another in greeting. A flute of champagne was thrust into her hands and she had taken a sip when her eyes rested upon an unmistakable figure leaning against one of the art-covered walls, in deep conversation with Anya. A woman so familiar, so _excruciatingly_ familiar that it sent shards of glass straight into her chest, ripping the air from her lungs and churning a fire in the pit of Clarke’s stomach.

 

She was all pomp and tight-lipped smiles. She stood like marble, chiselled by the delicate hand of a Roman sculptor. A perfectly-curved chin pointed toward the ceiling as she spoke with eloquent utterances wrapped around her blush-pink tongue. The suit was crisp and grey atop her taut, tan shoulders. Her trademark glass of scotch was clutched in those delicate fingers. Every now and again, golden liquid slipped past those plump, pink lips and sparkling teeth. Her hair cascaded down her back in tight, chestnut ringlets. Her posture radiated power in its purest form. It sparked and crackled against her smooth, sweet skin as if there was an electric current running through her veins.

 

As if she sensed Clarke’s blatant staring, the woman looked up. The sky once again gazed upon the ground.

 

_I will always be with you._

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think at alonelytypewriter.tumblr.com


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